


something wicked

by ashinan



Series: Stranger Things [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Creepy, Gen, Ghosts, Lots of Horror Movie References, Misuse of Ghost Hunting Equipment, Paranormal AU, Shiro is Tired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 05:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12292680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashinan/pseuds/ashinan
Summary: It’s been weeks since Shiro went toe to toe with the white haired demon in that old house. When the next haunted excursion leads the gang to a supernatural Bed and Breakfast, a new player makes itself known.





	1. Routine

**Author's Note:**

> a year ago I wrote ['something strange'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8345851) which was a paranormal AU that was Shiro focused. this year I decided to expand upon that universe. the original idea came from [DaPanda's](http://legendary-defenders.tumblr.com/) amazing Voltron Paranormal AU concept and I've since kind of been world building it in my own way haha. I hope you all enjoy this continuation. I'm hoping to have a chapter up a week as we lead up to Halloween!

_‘The night is long and full of terrors’_ – a quote Shiro understood on a wholly new level since his accident. Since he was – changed. The night was no longer quiet interspersed with the busy racket of cars speeding by or a drunkard stumbling their way down the street; no. His nights were endless corridors of screaming spirits begging for another chance. Some clung to Shiro as he walked; others followed him home and rattled his windowpanes when they could not follow him inside; still more watched him, dead eyes imploring and fingers reaching.

Sleep came in the quiet moments of twilight and the slow lightening of dawn. Otherwise, Shiro was occupied with the wailing outside of his home or the clunk and scrape of Hunk’s van as Shiro’s ghost hunting friends dragged him on another adventure. It didn’t matter how often they failed to produce a spirit. It didn’t matter that each and every one of them couldn’t perceive what Shiro was forced to. When Lance excitedly called the crew together, Shiro inevitably tagged along.

Better to be safe than sorry.

The spirits had been quiet since his run in with the white haired demon and the little girl. They still groaned at and groped him, but it was with a subdued ferocity. Shiro propped his chin on the windowsill of his apartment, staring through a middle aged spirit that was mouthing words at him. The quiet was unsettling. Not unwelcome, certainly, but a luxury Shiro had never entertained having again. He reached up and drew his fingers through the condensation on his window. The spirit followed the motion, mouth agape, eyes white and sightless.

Shiro sighed. He pulled away from the window and its quiet visitor, and puttered his way to the kitchen. The sun was creeping up and over buildings made of metal and glass, cutting through the spirit as it bumped its forehead repetitively against Shiro’s window. He made up another cup of coffee, slumping back against the counter to watch. Every sip was met with another quiet _thump!._ The sun rose higher. Shiro squinted. 

His phone chimed when the spirit finally turned to the oncoming sun. It drifted quietly away into wisps of silver mist as the sun cut through it. Shiro plucked his phone up and swiped it open, taking another sip as he read over the group chat.

 **Lance** :  
No hey listen comeon this one looks legit!

 **Katie** :  
u say that about every house we find  
every  
single  
one

 **Lance** :  
Well I wouldnt have to if you just believed me!

 **Keith** :  
It’s not even five yet  
Shut up

 **Lance** :  
You shut up!  
Were meeting at dennys at 9

 **Katie  
** who goes to dennys at 9 ure disowned meet at 11

With a quiet groan, Shiro shuffled into the living room and plopped down onto the couch, opening the file Lance had sent to the group chat. A picturesque little three floor home painted in whites and blues sat just off centre in the photo, surrounded by an array of brilliant flowers and well trimmed hedges. Vast windows peppered the upper floors, with the lower floors housing floor to ceiling windows of shining glass. High class, high cost; weird they complained of hauntings.

Shiro scrolled down. The owners of the Teladuv B&B were offering a reward to would-be ghost hunters to find any evidence of supernatural activity in their residence. Free accommodation for the night, free food, hefty reward. Another tourist trap demanding authentication. That made a lot more sense. Notes had been added, information Hunk and Lance had dug up when the house had popped up on their radar.

Old building, built in the 50s. Numerous owners throughout the years. Sizable, good plot of land, cute swing set in the back. Lance delved into the gory bits further down but Shiro scrolled for the pictures. It was more difficult to spot them with his curse when it was just a picture, but it was always fun to try. The close ups of the building offered little except for the usual people milling about in the background. Nothing spooky popped out at him.

A quiet _thump!_ rang through the apartment and Shiro heaved a sigh, dropping his phone. This was one persistent ghost. He rose, wandering back toward the balcony and the window where the spirit had been camped out. Instead of a ghostly forehead pressed against pane glass, he found Keith.

“Really?” Shiro asked, pleasantly surprised. Keith shrugged, turning to yank the window back down into place before he dusted off his hands and kicked off his shoes. He was dressed poorly for the chilly fall morning, jacket flapping open and gloves fingerless and more decorative than useful. He plucked Shiro’s mug free from his hands and wandered into the living room with no explanation, sipping at Shiro’s coffee.

“You can’t just shimmy up the fire escape, Keith,” Shiro called. He detoured to the kitchen, pouring a fresh cup.

Keith snorted from the living room. “You should learn to lock your shit. All kinds of unsavoury characters can get in here.”

“And steal my coffee apparently.” Shiro carried his coffee back into the living room, dropping down beside Keith and kicking his feet off the coffee table. “We’re not meeting up for a few hours yet.”

Peering at Shiro over the rim of his mug, Keith shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep after Lance sent all that info over. I was hoping you’d want to sort through it before we meet up with everyone else.”

“Yeah, sure, why not. Let me just –” Shiro pushed forward and dug under the coffee table, yanking his laptop free. He transferred over Lance’s file, printing off all eighteen pages of information Lance had compiled. Keith sipped at his coffee, kicking his heels back up on the table and smiling smug when Shiro clicked his tongue.

“All right, do you want the gory bits or the history?” Shiro asked, sorting the pages.

Keith waved a hand. “Gory bits. I know they make you squeamish.”

“Hey, I’m not squeamish. I just don’t see the point of delving into all the murders, suicides, and general mishaps of a house that is clearly not haunted.” Shiro dumped a set of papers into Keith’s lap, settling back into the couch with more force than necessary. “Lance likes to go into alarming detail.”

“He’s Lance.” Keith shoved his shoulder against Shiro’s. “His life would be boring otherwise.”

Together, they read over the documentation. The history was more Hunk’s forte and it was prevalent in his scribbled notes and interesting little anecdotes. The house had been sold to numerous owners over the years, but it was only in the last dozen years or so it was transformed into a bed and breakfast. The current owner was a somewhat eccentric man only known as Slav. Moved to the city some five years ago and purchased the Teladuv with cash only.

Pidge delved into his financials, spreadsheets upon spreadsheets arrayed with snarky commentary. There wasn’t much dirt on him except that his renovations had cost a near fortune but had made the Teladuv much more enticing to stay at. Slav’s accounts were all in order; his taxes seemed fine; hell, Pidge had managed to figure out what auctions Slav had frequented in case he was collecting haunted memorabilia. Instead, Slav tended to bid on geometric artwork and soft blankets. 

Skimming Slav’s profile for anything suspicious, Shiro was met with nothing. The guy was alarmingly by the book, almost obsessively. Aside from numerous complaints by patrons and one very shoddy police report about excessive noise, Slav was clean.

“The most this guy has done with this house is change the carpeting to hardwood,” Shiro said, slapping down his pile. “There’s nothing noteworthy about his actions that would show why he wants a ‘Come here, we’re haunted!’ sign on his door.”

Keith hummed, knocking back the last of his coffee. “Well, he might not have a choice. Lance dug up reports on weird activity stretching all the way back to the 70’s. Some of these incidents are creepy. They could easily be attributed to hauntings.”

Blowing his bangs out of his face, Shiro slid his mug onto the coffee table. “Most hauntings can be attributed to drafty windows and the settling of an old house. What makes this place interesting?”

“The usual poltergeist-y activity: lights blowing out, doors rattling, someone pacing outside in the hallway and on the ceiling at odd times.” Keith shuffled the pages, thrusting one at Shiro. “Murders and suicides were prevalent throughout the 1960’s right up to the 90’s when it was made into a bed and breakfast instead.”

Shiro reluctantly took the pages, flipping through to the more exuberant scribbles of Lance’s. Murder-suicide, hanging, death in a bathtub, someone falling down the stairs, death after pregnancy. The list was extensive and detailed. Eventually, Shiro would need to sit down with Lance and question him over this macabre fascination. It couldn’t be healthy.

There was a soft _thump!_ from the balcony. Shiro ignored it. Keith glanced up, head cocked to the side as he listened, and it came again. “What was that?”

“Upstairs cat,” Shiro replied easily. “I fed it one time and now it’s become demanding. Just like someone else I know.”

“Stop feeding me then,” Keith said, jabbing Shiro with his elbow as he grinned. They dissolved into a light hearted argument over Keith’s terrible palate and Shiro’s terrifying obsession with mac’n’cheese. By the time they had to leave to meet up with the others, the ghost from the balcony had moved on.

~('')~

The Denny’s on fifth was their usual haunt: it had been built back when the town was small, new and polished and brimming with misguided hope. As the population ballooned and housing crushed the hills beyond, the Denny’s remained a shabby central component of the town. Chipped brown roof, streaked glass, the sign half lit more often than not. The owners had opted for landscaping instead of required renos; hedges spilled their branches over the concrete wall. The trees were beginning to turn, reds and yellows and oranges littering the parking lot, crushed into colourful dust beneath constant traffic.

Keith’s motorbike crunched more leaves beneath its wheel as he parked them beside Hunk’s massive van. Releasing his stranglehold on Keith’s waist, Shiro shakily climbed off the bike. His toes tingled. Since his accident, he had been reluctant to purchase a new vehicle, and he trusted Keith and his bike more than Shiro trusted himself behind the wheel. It was a compromise, but it worked.

He combed his hair back into a semblance of order, flattened unattractively by the bike, and Keith rolled his eyes good naturedly. Inside, the cloying scent of grease and syrup prickled at Shiro’s nose. Beyond the fraying crimson seats and the tables wiped clean of polish, were the usual suspects: Lance and Pidge were arguing over the remains of a milkshake cup, frost discolouring the metal and leaking condensation onto the table. Hunk and Allura had their heads ducked together, peering at a map crumpled on the table. Coran was surveying the scene, content in his silence.

“Where will it be, dearies?” asked the hostess. Shiro waved over to the group and she nodded, handing them two scratched menus. Coran spotted them first, waving lazily. The group shuffled to the side but didn’t cease their antics; Shiro slid in beside Keith and placed his menu facedown, already certain of his order.

Lance shoved a hand into Pidge’s face and said, “Now that we’re all here, let’s talk hauntings.”

“You’re the literal worst,” Pidge said, muffled by Lance’s insistent palm. She punched him in the side and he released her with a wheeze. “This place isn’t haunted, Lance, it’s a scam.”

“False.” Lance stole the remainder of the milkshake, dumping it directly into his mouth. Shiro chuckled, gaze slowly roaming around the Denny’s while Pidge wrestled Lance for the cup. There weren’t many booths filled: an eldery couple were just receiving their order and a mother coaxed her toddler into eating some waffles. His arm tingled.

_Shit._

The waitress came by, dropping off condensation heavy water glasses and coffee stained mugs. Keith ordered his usual cappuccino and Pidge grudgingly asked for another milkshake. Lance grinned at her, his cheek smeared with the remnants of the won milkshake. Shiro peered around, flexing his metal fingers as the tingling worsened. A strong spirit was nearby. Great.

As the waitress dropped off their drink orders and inquired over what everyone wanted to eat, a pool of water began to form beside the elderly couple enjoying their pancakes. It dampened the carpet, oozing until a thick puddle nearly swallowed the entire aisle. Shiro made a face. A hand shot up from the floor, slapping into the water. The spirit hauled itself up and out of the pool, staggering as it gained its footing on the carpet, and braced wide hands on the table.

It was a round spirit, spindly legs dangling above the pool, thin arms ending in bony wrists and sausage thick fingers. Its chest and stomach bulged, bloated massive by water or food. Its face was a grotesque twisting of agony. With unerring focus, it reached for the plates of food with an excited groan, white eyes glowing an eerie green.

“We’re still deciding,” Hunk said and the waitress nodded, heading back the way she came, right through the disgusting puddle on the floor. She didn’t notice. The spirit gargled, spit bubbling over its lips and down its chin. Shiro recoiled. It wasn’t water on the floor: it was _drool._

The rest of the team talked amongst themselves while Hunk gathered menus and orders. Shiro absently included his, gaze glued on the inevitable frustration that would soon consume the spirit. Its fingers kept clawing at the food, at the stained cutlery and watery coffee, at the pancakes weighed heavy with syrup and too much butter. Nothing happened. More drool spilled down its chin and joined the puddle on the floor.

The couple chatted happily together, unaware of the malevolent energy building beside their table. The plaid covering the spirits’ shoulders began to quiver and wisp; its eyes shone a vicious green. Its lips pulled back, fleshy gums becoming increasingly visible until lips touched flared nostrils and teeth ground in vicious circles. Fingers groped, desperate. A low wail hummed through the air.

An unerring silence jerked Shiro out of his observation. The spirit opened its mouth so wide its jaw hit its belly button. “Sorry, what?”

“Our last full haunting,” Lance said, gesturing. “You know, the suspect ‘draft’ that just so happened to slam the door closed and launch you into a wall? At full force?”

“Those darn drafty houses,” Shiro said, sipping at his coffee. He made a face. Keith plucked the mug from him, swapping out his cappuccino for Shiro’s unsweetened sludge. “What are you getting at Lance?”

“Dude, we know you battled a ghostie in that house.” Lance leaned back, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “You’re shit at lying.”

“He’s right,” Hunk spoke up before Shiro could. “A draft can explain away a lot of phenomena, but Shiro, we saw the wallpaper peel off. We felt the earth tremble. Allura had to break down the door because we couldn’t!”

“Poor hinge oiling, open windows up top and down below creating a wind tunnel, I fell,” Shiro said, ticking the points off on his fingers. Keith shoved an elbow into his side and Shiro swatted at him.

Sighing, Pidge said, “Shiro, even I know that’s reaching. We just want to know: was that a legit haunting? Did you see a ghost?”

Shiro glanced away, back to the spirit that was desperate to shovel food into its wide open mouth. Saliva pooled on the floor beneath it. The food remained, though the cutlery rattled slightly. The couple didn’t notice. The spirit howled.

“I didn’t see anything. I don’t remember a lot after I shoved Hunk toward the door.”

The spirit gargled, its jaw inching up slowly until its teeth clicked closed. Spittle dribbled down its slick chin. It clenched its thick fingers over the plates once more before giving up, floating backwards and then down, down, down, until its mouth and nose were all that remained visible in the carpeting. The waitress walked right through it and the spirit disappeared.

The fourth degree was sidelined while everyone ordered, Shiro sneakily peering around the waitress to gauge if the ghost was gone for good. The couple finished up their meal and the pool of spectral drool disappeared from the floor. A despairing wail echoed up through the floor.

Shiro blinked when Keith elbowed him and gave his order, smiling apologetically. The rest of the team eyed him. As soon as the waitress turned, Lance slapped his palms against the table. “You expect us to believe you conveniently passed out after all of us left the room? You’re hiding something, Boss Man, and I’m gonna figure it out.”

“Or we can discuss the current haunting,” Allura interrupted, primly inserting herself into the conversation. Coran was fiddling with the laptop, “as we have accepted said job thanks to Lance, Hunk, and twelve cans of Red Bull.”

Pidge gagged. “Gross.”

“Worrying,” Allura agreed. “Now, we have all received information on the perceived home and its colourful history. We will be staying for three nights at the Teladuv B&B to ascertain if spirits haunt it. Once our investigation is concluded, we will receive our compensation.”

Hunk dug in his bag and produced file folders, handing them out to everyone. “We’ve dug through most of the history of the house as well as listed the ‘hauntings’ that patrons have documented. It didn’t get really bad until the last few weeks.”

Lance picked up when Hunk trailed off. “Poltergeist-y activity like whoa. We’re talking plates levitating, doors opening and closing, people walking on the ceilings, rocks being dribbled down the walls, and the third floor had to be completely quarantined when the lights wouldn’t stop blowing out.”

Picking up his folder, Shiro swallowed. “And this all started a few weeks back?”

“Yup.” Lance brandished his folder. “Slav said that he would get the occasional complaint, but nothing like what his customers have been experiencing in the last few weeks or so. It just exploded.”

Inside the folder were the same copies Shiro had printed off back at home. Keith eyed it beside him before closing the folder, sipping on Shiro’s coffee. Lance launched into details about all the gruesome deaths that surrounded the house since its construction, Hunk interjecting at points, and Allura asking questions. Shiro flipped through the numerous hauntings, but paused at the report on the first major incident. Two weeks prior. The day Shiro fought off that white haired demon.

Someone had witnessed a white haired woman with purplish skin on the third floor, just before all the lights blew out.

A chill crept up Shiro’s spine, his skin pebbling.

He skimmed the rest of the entry, desperate for further information, but it was a chance encounter. One of the patrons had been heading upstairs to their room when she’d heard soft chanting. Confused and a touch frightened, she crept up the stairs. In the middle of the hallway was a woman with long white hair, her face tinged the lightest of purples, and her hands outstretched. Before the patron could call out, all the bulbs on the third floor blew out and the woman was gone. That point was, as far as Slav could tell, the catalyst for the paranormal activity.

And half-way across the town, in an abandoned little house, Shiro had fought and escaped a similar white haired, purple faced creature. Spreading his palm over the report, he ducked his head down. Measured each breath against the painstaking staccato of his heart. Ignored the gentle warmth of his prosthetic. Just the food spirit, low level, nothing to worry about. Breathe. Breathe. _Breathe._

“Shiro?” Keith asked, fingers gentle against Shiro’s wrist. He jerked, blinking as he inhaled wrong. The resulting coughing fit left him hunched in on himself, fingers bruising against his collarbone as he fought for air. Everyone crowed sympathy, their voices mixing with the static in Shiro’s ears, and he straightened painstakingly. Keith dropped a glass in his hand and he gulped down the water.

“Sorry,” Shiro rasped, smiling apologetically, “zoned out there for a little bit.”

“Rude,” Pidge said, but it was more worried than sarcastic. Shiro waved a hand as he continued to sip. Thoughts tangled and tripped in his head. If the Teladuv was the main haunting grounds of the white haired demon, then there was a serious possibility his friends could get hurt. They could all get hurt.

_Champion._

Shuddering, Shiro downed the rest of the water and sat back, exhaling heavily. Keith nudged their knees together, eyebrow raised when Shiro glanced at him. Shiro smiled back, shaking his head in the negative, and Keith dropped his elbows onto the table as he half listened to what Lance was ranting about. Shiro caught and stored snippets: they would go this weekend, they would be set up on the second floor, Slav would clear out the building for them to use.

Everyone quieted as the food was delivered. Shiro’s stomach twisted, nausea thickening in his throat. The conversation turned to general happenings for the week and job prospects. Shiro didn’t eat.

On the floor by their table, ghostly drool began to form.


	2. Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so late! things got a bit...hectic but I should be back on track now. nano helps a lot. jsyk this entire thing is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. I'll go over everything with a fine toothed comb when I have the chance. thanks!!

The Teladuv B&B was situated on a quaint little hill overlooking the valley, far enough from the bulging city to maintain ties to nature but close enough that tourists could still taste the smog and overworked stress. The pictures didn’t quite do it justice: whatever money Slav had put into the place was reflected in the perfectly trimmed hedges in various geometric shapes and the polished sheen of the windows reflecting the descending sun. The walkways werer cleared of leaves and the lawn was absolutely pristine and likely measured. It rose up three floors, subtle blue and shining white, topped with a modest roof and framed delicately by the American Dream white picket fence. The sign gleamed as they drove into the parking lot, Hunk’s van clunking its way into a parking space and wheezing as he threw it into park. Shiro eyed the windows. Spirits liked windows.

As Shiro’s gaze bounced from window to window, Lance commented exclusively on the ‘creepy nature’ of such a well maintained bed and breakfast. Hunk scoffed, Pidge smacked him, and Keith just rolled his eyes. On the third floor, Shiro’s eye caught something - a hand lifted, pressing thick fingers against the pane of glass. A sliver of a smile split the darkness. A car door slammed and Shiro jerked, blinking for a moment. Whatever it was had disappeared. Shiro shook his hands out.

Keith nudged him to follow and the two of them climbed out of the back of Hunk’s van, Shiro stretching tall. His arm tingled. Keith rocked back on his heels, calling over to Hunk to unlock the back doors so they could unload, and Lance raced to meet Allura and Coran’s car as it pulled in. Turning, Shiro eyed the Teladuv. The spirit in the window wasn’t promising. Along with the information about the white haired demon, this was likely about to become a situation Shiro’d rather his team stay away from.

Pidge shoved her way into Shiro’s space and under his arm. “Can you believe someone thinks this place is haunted?”

Snorting, Shiro dropped his hand on Pidge’s head. “We’ve been to swankier hotels than this, Pidge, and they all claimed false hauntings.”

“Yeah, but they wanted that nice little plaque and the reputation that came with hiring legit ghost hunters to come investigate their ‘claims’. Slav seems different.” Pidge nudged Shiro’s hand off her head, but remained comfortably pressed against his side. “Listen, Shiro, whatever happened in that house, you know we won’t judge you, right? Even if you did see a ghost, that’s not going to change anything.”

Pursing his lips, Shiro eyed the third floor. There was nothing but gently fluttering curtains. He sighed. “I’m fine, Pidge. Thanks.”

Pidge jammed her shoulder into the side of his chest, digging in uncomfortably, before she pinched his side. Before Shiro could swat at her, she stepped away to assist Keith and Hunk with the equipment. With a quiet exhale, Shiro squared his shoulders and made his way to the open door, marring the pristine walkway with remnants of red tipped leaves. The wind caught and twisted around him. His palm tingled, wrist sore. Shiro flexed his fingers and quickened his step.

He knocked on the frame when he entered. Inside, the lighting was soft, barely required due to the sheer elegance of the foyer. A rug of silver trimmed with blue cushioned a sprawling table made of darkened mahogany, with a wide crystal bowl atop filled with various fruits. Shiro stepped through the threshold, his gaze immediately drawn to the stairs on the right and the fireplace quiet and cold beside it.

A series of bizarre vases were lined up on precarious stands, the pedestals carved in dizzying lines and curves. The closest vase showcased a series of small explosive colour work interwoven with the curved nature of the vase. Its opening was barely bigger than Shiro’s palm. Others made far less sense: skinny and tall, another had a base so wide that it nearly didn’t fit upon the pedestal, and a third was all jagged edges and twisted points.

Beyond that, a desk area had been cut into the butter yellow wall so seamlessly it took Shiro a moment to find the person sitting comfortably in a chair, feet up and reading something on a tablet. He cleared his throat.

“Welcome to the Teladuv Bed and Breakfast. Do you have a reservation?” the woman drawled, her gaze riveted on her tablet. Twists of blonde hair were separated into four braids, all held back with a thick green band. She waved a hand at Shiro, fingers curled in a gesture for him to approach, and Shiro did so cautiously.

“Uh, yeah. We’re from the Voltron: Paladin group? We booked several rooms at the request of the owner to investigate potential hauntings.” Shiro paused in front of the desk, eyebrow up as the woman behind it sighed and placed her tablet face down.

“Right, Slav mentioned you’d be by. He’s in the kitchen right now, terrifying the new staff with the probability they’ll burn this place down if they use the wrong frying pan.” She booted up the computer, typing in a quick few commands, and then reached into the drawer beside her. She dropped two thin gold keys onto the desk. “Your manager - Allura? - said you’d need two nights total. We have you rooming on the second floor. Don’t bother the other guests. Food is at the usual: six to ten, twelve to one, and five to seven. Any questions, ask Slav. I’m out in ten minutes anyway.”

“Thanks?”

“Sure, sure.” The woman kicked her feet back up and situated her tablet back on her lap as she returned to her reading. Shiro awkwardly rocked back on his heels before whispering a quiet ‘Okay?’ and heading right back out the door.

The rest of the team had unpacked the van, loading up the equipment on a set of portable carts. Pidge was plopped down on top of three boxes, legs crossed and laptop out as she typed furiously. Hunk balanced her with a hand while directing Keith and Coran to finish loading everything up. Allura talked quietly with Lance.

“Shiro,” Allura called, waving him over. “Have you acquired accommodations? When shall we meet Slav?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I have a key? It goes to a room, I’m assuming. The receptionist was a bit chilly.”

Lance blinked. “Bossman, wouldn’t you be all frosty if a group of ghost hunters crashed your place of work to declare it haunted by the grisliest of ghoulies?”

Unable to help himself, Shiro cracked a smile. “One of these days I’m going to sit you down and talk to you about this weird fascination with death.”

“That would take _eons_ , my dude, and I’d rather be chasing ghosts.” Lance wiggled his fingers. “Speaking of, let’s roll out, team. We’re burning daylight!”

Hunk made a face, still balancing Pidge as he pushed a cart toward the entrance of the Teladuv. “When have any of the hauntings we investigated happen during the day?”

“The one two weeks ago!” Lance said, jogging to catch up. “How could you already forget about that? Come one!”

Before Shiro could follow, Allura touched his elbow. “Shiro, I must speak with you before we begin.”

Turning, Shiro crossed his arms. “What’s up?”

“While I can understand your hesitation to share with the team what happened two weeks prior, I do worry that something did occur and you are keeping it from us. If this is done with a misguided notion that we will reject whatever you witnessed, I wish to assuage that worry. We’re here for you.” Allura smiled, soft and hopeful, and Shiro flicked his tongue against his teeth. His arm hurt. “You frightened us all when you did not follow us out of the house. My having to break the door down only exacerbated that fear. We worry for you. Please, talk with the team, talk with us. We wish to help.”

“Allura -” Shiro began, stalling as he glanced over his shoulder. Immediately, his gaze was drawn to the third floor. He closed his eyes and exhaled, plastering on a smile as he turned back to her. Patting her hand, he continued, “I’m dealing with it. It won’t effect anything, I promise. We should get inside.”

Allura frowned, the sharp bones of her knuckles bumping against Shiro’s palm as she tightened her hold. “I’m not worried about your effecting anything. I’m worried for _you_.”

“And I told you, I’m dealing with it. Nothing happened. Come on.” Shiro tugged away, swallowing at the quiet upset that spread over Allura’s features. She sighed and collected herself before following him into the Teladuv.

~('')~

Their rooms were spacious, tastefully decorated, and quiet. Shiro flopped back on one of the beds while Hunk shifted into assembly mode. The ceilings rose high and were gilded enough to twist the light of the dying sun into shimmering fractals. Vast windows with soft curtains looked out over the belly of the town, and the balcony door was slightly ajar to allow the gentlest of fall breezes to chase through the room. More vases decorated each corner of the room, particularly placed and geometrically impossible.

Shiro stretched, fingers brushing the headboard until his back giving a satisfying pop. Keith settled down beside him, landing with his shoulder shoved into Shiro’s armpit, and Shiro kicked at his ankle. They shifted around until they were comfortable, Keith yanking a pillow free and tucking it against his chest.

Keith tilted his head to the side. “So, bets. Who sees the first ghost?” 

“Me,” Shiro said, grinning when Keith rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, you don’t think all my skepticism makes me the perfect ghost target?”

“One of these days, you’ll eat your words.” Keith rolled onto his side. Shiro’s smile dimmed slightly. “What do you think they serve here?”

“Based on what we’ve seen and read? The most elegant of dishes,” Shiro said, lilting the end of his sentence with a slight accent. Keith groaned in annoyance. Shiro snickered. “Why, hungry already?”

Hunk spoke up, “We’re not eating until this equipment is set up. Last time, we missed witching hour because Pidge and Keith were raiding the kitchen instead of placing cameras.”

Keith shrugged. Sitting up, Shiro stole Keith’s pillow. “Speaking of, where’s the rest of the party?”

“Checking out the other room.” Hunk finished unboxing most of the equipment, settling everything on the makeshift table just so.

Hopping to his feet, Shiro dropped the pillow on Keith’s face. “I’ll go join up with them. There’s something I need to discuss with Allura before we start.”

Stepping into the hallway, Shiro paused. Slav had put them up in the two rooms directly across from each other and closer to the stairs leading down to the foyer. The ones leading up, however – Shiro pivoted. There were six rooms on this floor, including the bathrooms, and the same up top. Shiro paused at the bottom of the stairs. He brushed a palm over the banister. His heart thundered. Something creaked.

“Shiro, hey,” Lance called, jogging over to him. Shiro released the banister. “Have you met Slav yet? Character and a half, let me tell you. Dude definitely doesn’t want his place haunted, that’s for sure. Find any good places to stick cameras?”

Swallowing, Shiro closed his eyes. “We should start below and work our way up.”

“Really?” Lance scratched under his beanie, before tripping his way up the first few steps. Shiro refrained from yanking him back down. “Most of the weird shit has been happening second floor or higher. Pretty sure our undead friends aren’t interested in tea time and Scrabble. If we set up near where that lady saw the white haired ghoulie, I bet you Hunk’s tartlets we’ll catch something.”

 Worrying his bottom lip, Shiro nodded. Lance hopped back down, chatting happily about camera placement and the new infrared scanner Hunk had completed just for this job. As they entered the opposite room, Shiro paused. Allura was talking quietly with a man just a touch taller than her, his fingers trembling together in fits and jerks. His light hair was close shaven and spiked up into twists and juts, likely from him running his fingers through it constantly and not through any styling of his own. Shiro couldn’t make out his expression from the doorway, but the air around him was tense. The man exuded a certain anxiety that prickled the skin of Shiro’s arm. Allura caught sight of him, smiling as she raised a hand to cut the man off.

“Shiro, this is Slav, the owner of the Teladuv,” Allura said, introducing the man beside her. Slav glanced over; small eyes, a hawkish nose, and a flat mouth pinched with a slight frown. As their eyes met, all colour seemed to drain from Slav’s face.

“Oh dear,” Slav started. His voice was high and reedy, with a faint hint of an accent. “You did not tell me you would be bringing a medium with you. Now, the chances of my home being haunted has risen to ninety-eight point three seven percent!”

“Uh,” Shiro said.

Allura blinked, glancing over at Shiro before focusing on Slav. “I assure you, none of the Paladins are mediums. We are simply here to conduct our tests.”

That caught Slav’s attention. The creases around his eyes deepened as he eyed Shiro, stepping forward with his fingers clasped. “You are certain?”

“I’m not a medium,” Shiro lied. Well, half lied. He wasn’t a medium so much as a bridge between two worlds.

“Hmm.” Slav paused, glancing up at the ceiling. “The universe will correct that. The chances are still too high. I must inform the staff.”

Before Shiro could get a word in, Slav brushed by him and out the door. Lance whistled quietly from where he’d jumped out of the way of Slav’s retreat. “Told you. Dude’s a wildcard.”

“Lance,” Allura chided, though she immediately followed it up with a sigh. “He is quite the character. I do hope we’re able to assist him. Has Hunk finished preparations?”

Shiro shook his head. “Keith’s helping him out. We should go over assignments before we lose light.”

~('')~

By the time dinner was served, the team had split into groups to allow for maximum coverage of the Teladuv. Pidge snagged Shiro before Lance could, citing that if she was going upstairs, she was taking the strongest of the group with her. Shiro was fine with that. If he only had to keep an eye on one of his teammates as opposed to all of them, it would save him a lot of time. Everything was set up as usual; everyone had their jobs.

The only issue was Slav.

The owner of the Teladuv was constantly under foot, either distracting Hunk or following Shiro around with a critical eye. He’d even managed to get into a statistics off with Pidge. The entire team was distracted the moment Slav barrelled into the room, only to leave in a similar flurry as something else caught his attention. It was constant whiplash with no reprieve. Shiro contemplated just showing Slav the ghost. At least then it might shut him up.

As the day wore on and twilight crept into the cracks of the bed and breakfast, Shiro’s unease tightened. The spirit had yet to manifest, but it showed its presence in small ways: the creak of floorboards above, the whisper soft scratch of fingernails against a wall, the echo of laughter that was too deep and too malicious to be human. The rest of the team couldn’t hear it, the spirits movements only known to Shiro thus far, but that would change. Spirits were always more solid at night.

“Coran,” Allura called, her tone despairing. “Please, if you must, distract our employer until we are ready to begin the investigation. I am moments from calling this off.”

Coran chuckled, waving a two fingered salute. “I’ll do my best. Keep me appraised!”

“We have a limited window to set up our equipment throughout the house,” Allura began once Coran left. “As Lance and Hunk’s research has shown, most of the activity is in the upper portions of the house. Pidge and Shiro, you will deal primarily with camera placement and EMF readings on the third floor. Hunk, Keith, you will be in charge of comms and correcting placements once we’re set up. Lance and I will set up the wires and do general recon on the second floor. Should anything go awry, we should all be informed immediately.”

“Same if there’s a ghost. Don’t go shoving us out doors this time, Shiro,” Lance said, winking when Shiro rolled his eyes.

Allura continued, “We will return to this room once all preparations are complete. Comms on.”

The crackle and hiss of the comm in Shiro’s ear settled some of the anxiety churning in his chest. Allura’s assignments were perfect for what Shiro would have to do. It was now just a matter of ushering Pidge out of the way before she was hurt. Before they went their separate ways, Shiro dug through his bag and shoved a few vials of quintessence in his pockets. For safety purposes only. Well, that and potentially sending a hostile spirit on to the next realm. He stood and rejoined Pidge. Hunk and Keith tested the comms before everyone went their separate ways.

Allura and Lance branched off, immediately heading for the bathrooms on the right side of the hallway. Pidge tugged Shiro along, muttering to herself as she went over their equipment and the various spaces they were to set up the cameras. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, Shiro crossed his arms. Pidge fiddled with her bag and the plethora of small cameras within. She had another around her neck, the strap already rubbing red against her skin. Tapping his fingers against his bicep, Shiro contemplated just booking it up the stairs and taking on the spirit himself. This wasn’t going to end well. That certainty settled in his bones.

Breathing out, Shiro asked, “How many people are staying here tonight?”

“Roster says only two other people have checked in besides us. They’re on the bottom floor.” Pidge flicked through her phone, bringing up the list of patrons they received from Slav. “Nevermind, I lied. There are three people. One couple and a loner chick apparently. Bottom floor though.”

“Doesn’t that seem strange?” Shiro asked. He ghosted a hand over the railing to the stairwell, frowning at the slight warmth that licked at his prosthetic. Definitely something strong up there. How to get to it without endangering Pidge?

“What, that they have so few guests? Nah. They have, at most, nine bedrooms in this place? Not to mention all the hauntings seem to occur on the second floor and above. Makes sense Slav would place most of his guests downstairs.” Pidge tucked her phone away, reaching for the banister as she stepped onto the stairwell.

Above them, something creaked. Shiro yanked Pidge off the stairs and behind him, squinting. Pidge’s fingers bit into Shiro’s skin, quick indents of pain that bloomed and mixed with the telltale warmth of Shiro’s prosthetic. Something was up there.

“No one is supposed to be up there,” Pidge whispered. The camera trembled.

“Nope,” Shiro agreed. Twelve steps between them and whatever was prowling about. “This is an old house. It’s going to settle weird.”

Pidge huffed, pulling away from Shiro. “Right. That makes sense. Come on, Hunk needs those cameras.”

Following her up the stairs, Shiro worried his bottom lip. First sign of danger and he’d toss Pidge down the stairs, face whatever it was, and hopefully win. He reached into his pocket, gliding a thumb over the quintessence vial. If it was the white haired demon, they might be screwed. But if it was a normal spirit, one irritated by their presence, Shiro could buy them some time until he could pinpoint the object tethering the spirit to this plane.

The topmost floor of the Teladuv was just as ornately decorated as its previous floors. Plush silver carpet rolled along the hallway, dappled with light from the elegant lamps fixed to the wall beside each room. Most of the doors were closed, though Shiro couldn’t make out the state of the furthest doors; there was also an access door to the attic, just barely noticeable in the steady orange light. That - wasn’t good. The hallway ended in a table, beautiful pink and white flowers sprouting from a lavishly painted vase. The walls were covered in impressive and eccentric artwork: more geometric symbols that twisted and wove in on themselves, and a single picture that seemed out of place. It housed a woman, holding an apple up so that it hid most of her face. Her smile was mischievous.

“Okay, if we place cameras above the doors and down the length of the hallway, that should work.” Pidge dropped to a crouch and dug through her bag. “Once we have solid evidence of activity, we can pop these suckers into the rooms.”

A vicious _bang!_ rang through the hallway and Pidge shrieked, falling backwards. Shiro reached her in two steps and hauled her up, quickly shoving her behind him. Second door on the right. Slightly open. Fourth door blotted with light and dark, shadows jumping. Shiro flexed his fingers. The prosthetic was heating up, slower than anything Shiro had experienced. This was either an incredibly weak spirit or one that was used to masking its power.

Fingers caught and twisted Shiro’s hem as Pidge peered around him. “Was that the old house settling too?”

“A window might be open,” Shiro said absently, scanning the hall. Nothing further came. He focused on the second door, on the quiet widening of it. Not good, not good. “We should head back down.”

“No,” Pidge said, stubborn. She didn’t release Shiro, but she did pick up her bag and the cameras. Slinging it over her shoulder, she lifted her own camera and took a series of quick burst shots down the hall. The second door ground to a halt, the flash chasing aside the shadows for a moment. Pidge paused. Shiro listened. Silence, except for the usual creaks and groans of an old house.

Laughing softly to herself, Pidge straightened her shoulders. “All right, cameras up and then we head back down. You’re taller. Let’s do this.”

Aware that they were definitely irritating something, Shiro placed the cameras cautiously and quietly. They’d likely wound up the spirit by trespassing. Shiro clicked on the final camera, tugging Pidge along with him. She’d yet to let go of his shirt, her camera up as she took pictures inside the rooms. As the flash went off in the third room, heat sizzled fast and sharp up Shiro’s arm.

Gasping, Shiro hauled Pidge away from the door. “Pidge, stay back.” She stumbled, finger still on the button of her camera. The flash dazzled him, spots streaking across his vision as he blinked violently. The heat continued, boiling, burning, and ozone permeated the air. Pidge slipped up against his side.

“Shiro?” she whispered. Shiro rubbed at his eyes, breath going cold in his lungs. He froze. Cold. _Oh no._ “I don’t like this.”

The door beside them rattled, almost mockingly, and Shiro breathed out sharp. The temperature continued to fall, pinpricks of ice trailing like unwanted fingers over his skin. Pidge shoved close, her hand tangled in his shirt. The camera remained up. The lights at the end of the hallway flickered, hard and fast. The flowers began to droop. With a shriek, the lights above the table blew out. Pidge’s yelp forced Shiro back a step. The lights continued to pop, shattering as the hallway darkened in a race toward them.

Whirling, Shiro shoved Pidge away from him. _“Run!”_

The doors around them shook in their frames, violent rattling that splinted the wood. Darkness nipped at Shiro’s heels. Pidge stumbled, nearly fell, and Shiro yanked her back onto her feet. More light bulbs shattered. A high whistle of sound chased after them, stalked their frantic escape with fierce intent. They just had to get down the staircase. Second floor, safe room, team. Salt, salt, why didn’t he think of salt?

Pidge sailed down the stairs, two at a time, and Shiro leapt the entire thing. He landed wrong, ankle giving under his weight as he crashed to the floor. Pidge grabbed at his arm, yanking hard enough to hurt. A hiss of a lightbulb filament twisted into a thundering snarl. Shiro turned.

At the top of the stairs, wreathed in the dying light of the final bulb, was a man. His stature was alarming, tall and broad, hair thick and wild, ears angled in an awkward curl away from his head. Purple lightning crackled down his left arm. Teeth glowed in a half grimace. His golden eyes caught and devoured the remaining light in the hall. Shiro’s arm burned, sudden and sharp, and he cried out as he gripped at his bicep. The spirit lifted its chin, form flickering for a single second.

_“Champion.”_

The floor shivered. The darkness ballooned, picking apart the cracks in the panels and peeling away the wallpaper. Shiro couldn’t breathe. Those _eyes_. They sunk tethered hooks into his mind, pinned him and laughed at his struggle. _Champion_. He couldn’t breathe. His arm burned. Pidge stepped in front of him and lifted her camera; the flash went off.

With an almighty shriek of rage, the spirit disappeared. The lights snapped, that harsh resurgence of electricity as they all came on at once. The burn in Shiro’s arm receded, left him panting as he curled tight around it. His ankle throbbed. Pidge stood in front of him, her camera still held aloft, her entire frame a shaking mess. Her legs gave out a second later.

With a near hysterical giggle, Pidge breathed, “Holy shit.”

“That about sums it up,” Shiro managed. He’d worked finger shaped bruises into the skin above his prosthetic.

Pidge whirled when he spoke, her knees scrapping against the carpet. She crawled toward him, hands out, fingers immediately catching his jaw and the sweaty fabric of his shirt. “Are you okay? Are you all right? How did you know to - Shiro, it talked to - _what the actual fuck!_ _”_

“We have to get back to the others.” Carefully, Shiro tested his weight on his prosthetic. It held, but just barely. His ankle would be the real test. Pidge stared up at him, following him up as he struggled to his feet. Her knuckles shoved up against his stomach, shaking with fright, but she held him as he gathered his bearings. Shiro exhaled. Pidge inhaled.

“That was a ghost.” Pidge blinked, slow. Her voice was measured, detached and clinical. “We just saw a ghost. I scared it away with my camera. It called you ‘Champion’. Shiro, that was a legit ghost.”

“Only counts if you caught it on film,” Shiro said, aiming for a smile. Pidge tucked herself closer. Blood caught on her chin; she must’ve punched through her lip when they were running. The amber lights of the hall caught in the slick shine.

Glancing over her shoulder, Pidge spread her palms over Shiro’s stomach. “Okay. Rendezvous with the others. Third floor is a hotbed of ghost activity. Eighth level manifestation, potentially ninth. High likelihood of poltergeist inclination.”

 _Champion_. Shiro closed his eyes. Terror coated the back of his tongue, tightened his throat to an unimaginable degree. He shoved a breath through. “Let’s go.”

Together, they hobbled down the hallway. A light bulb on the third floor _popped!_ and went dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Come follow me on[ tumblr](http://ashinan.tumblr.com/) where I've given up pretending I'm not fully immersed in Voltron hell.


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